Laundry Day: A Love Story
by pyrrhicvictoly
Summary: It's a tale as old as time. Feuding families and star-crossed lovers... Their moments of passion may be fleeting, but the fire in their hearts is everlasting. The legendary love begins on laundry day. CRACK.
1. Chapter 1

It was laundry day again. Much as I hated the tubs of soapy water and the squishing sound of cloth being wrung out, it was always pleasant after the deed. My companions and I, we enjoyed the warm breezes as we gazed at row upon row of bedsheets and green or brown trousers gently rippling in the wind. We, of course, were gathered off to the side where the garments worn by the royal family and their noble guests were set out to dry, separate from those of the servants and soldiers. From this secluded corner, we could watch the others, but never engage in conversation with them.

"Oh, Babe," I said to my dearest friend. I sighed longingly as I tried to peer over the castle walls. "What do you think it is like in the outside world?"

"Give it up, Rose," he replied with customary boredom in his voice. "Why don't you just accept your lot in life?"

Accept...? Never! Upon hearing this, I huffed indignantly. I should have known better than to ask him! "Well, you go ahead and content yourself with this gilded cage! I am destined for great things and great love!"

I am a romantic; I take no shame in it. The sight of those plain white undershirts on the other side of the courtyard at once sickened me with their peasantry, and yet aroused in me a curiosity that could not be stifled, for I had never left the castle. I felt so naive, never to have walked among the multitudes during a festival, never to have fallen in love with a handsome stranger just at a glance...

Why, Rose von Bielefelt was as stubborn as her master, and she would not take this lying down! Yes, that's right. My name is Rose von Bielefelt. I am a nightgown.

As fond as I usually am of my good friend Babe, I was glad that the wind decided, at that moment, to blow between us so that my left sleeve blew to the right, and his right sleeve to the left. I could not bear to listen to his plebeian sentiments right now.

Babe, as he insisted on being called, was a plain set of blue pajamas. He was one of the latest additions to our family of royal garments, coming only with the inauguration of the new king. We first met in the king's bed.

I had greeted him softly and spoke to him at length about how we should try to get along, for it seemed that we would be sharing sleeping quarters. (Indeed, my premonition came true, as my master adamantly insisted on sneaking out from his room in the dead of night to make his way to his love's side.) And Babe, when I asked if his name was short for "baby blue", had said to me, "No way! Haven't you heard of Babe Ruth?" whereupon he had gone on and on that entire night speaking to me of this tiresome "baseball" that his master was so fond of.

_How did the sovereign of one of the most powerful nations in the world end up wearing such average looking baby blue pajamas?_ I had wondered. But if there was one thing I had learned about Babe, it was that he shared his master's lack of propriety and respect for social class. He had an intense rivalry with Kuro, the Maou's beautiful and refined g-string. (Kuro did not usually hang out to dry with the rest of us. He was small enough not to need it, and the Maou was a shy boy.) Rather than associate with more aristocratic vestments, Babe was always off frolicking with "t-shirts" and "jeans", or, god forbid, Lord Weller's undergarments, which weren't even silk, but _cotton_.

But I suppose that's part of what I liked about him, that he was different from the rest, yet not nearly as ugly as Lord Weller's cotton undergarments. In any case, I had erroneously thought that Babe would understand my longing, but he did not. Miffed, I refused to look in his direction and let the wind push me as it would.

That was when I saw her.

Oh, stars! My heart ached upon seeing her elegant visage. Her cloth, light and smooth, a restrained hue of lavender. Her collar, just a slender line of frills to add a touch of femininity. Unlike my childish self, she was not bedecked in an assortment of puffs, buttons, and ribbons. This mysterious nightgown did not need such frivolities! I could see from the way she flowed in the wind that she, when worn by her mistress, would cling to each curve.

I felt so unbearably ugly, like a duckling next to a swan. Sweet zephyrs caress her, but she was the epitome of sensuality. Though in my heart of hearts I knew she would see nothing in me but a billowy pink frock... Though I knew with almost violent certainty that she would laugh at me... I knew I must approach her.

I inched forth as stealthily as I could, swinging further down the laundry line with each gust until we were face to face.

"Hello, dear," she said to me. Her voice was a low, smooth contralto. I was so nervous I could barely reply.

"H-hello."

The lavender nightgown chuckled at me, and I swear upon the washing board that her frills winked at me. "Oh, how rude of me, dear! A guest ought to introduce herself! I am Violette; my master, King Saralegui of Shou Shimaron, will be visiting Shin Makoku for some time. Pleased to meet you."

"Ah- Oh, the pleasure's all mine, Violette! My name is Rose, and I just cannot express how wonderful it is to meet another nightgown who is being worn by a man. How rare it is! I believe you are the first I have ever met, besides myself, of course."

"Is that so? Well, please tell me all about your master. Is he as beautiful as you?"

My goodness, she was so forward... I gasped in surprise. Could it be that she was showing an interest in me? Ugly me with my overabundance of girlish frippery?

Violette reached forth, and with her sleeve brushed over the ribbons between my breasts. "Come, my lovely Rose. You blush so prettily." She giggled, sleeves blowing up to hide her amused ruffles. And then she said, "You seem so innocent! I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. You said you have never been outside? Oh, that is simply dreadful! Does your master not bring you along when he travels?"

"No, I'm afraid he doesn't... He has another set of peach-colored pajamas that are much more practical. He does not dare wear me outside the castle..."

Violette tsked and folded me into her comforting embrace. "You poor thing! Come, I shall tell you all about the my travels; what it is like to be on a ship or in a tavern... If you will dance with me, that is."

I nodded my assent enthusiastically. We danced, then, our sleeves entwining as we swayed together on our two clotheslines. I have no adjective suitable to describe this experience but heavenly. I had never felt this way about anyone before! You may doubt me; say it is but a momentary insanity or the foolish, insincere infatuation of the young and stupid, but no! 'Twas love! I knew in that moment. Violette was my one and only.

"Violette!" I cried. I embraced her tightly.

"Yes?"

"I must confess to you! I can bear it no longer! I lo- I lo- Aaaaaah!"

Brutish hands grasped my sides, and before I could finish speaking, I was being yanked off, folded, and thrown into a basket.

"Lazania, take these to the Maou's room, okay?"

Those were the last words I heard before Babe was unceremoniously dropped on top of me and I was lost in darkness.

* * *

**A/N:** ...I have nothing to say in my defense, except that I hope you enjoyed the crack. Wolfram's Nightgown/Sara's Nightgown OTP forever. I've always wanted to write some kind of lesbian Victorian romance between a blushing virgin and a femme fatale... But that would have been a normal fic, so I wasn't able to pull it off. I added nightgowns, and that made everything better.

This fic will have one more part.

Oh, and Sara's nightgown, in case you haven't seen it: pdk(dot)broken-sunshine(dot)net/images/dvd/r2season3_10b(dot)jpg


	2. Chapter 2

I did not see Violette that night, nor for the next few days, though I thought of her often. I wondered if we would ever meet again. What were the chances? My master was not the type to parade around the castle in his nightwear, and with his stubborn fidelity to his fiance, there seemed to be no hope of him seeking out this King Saralegui for a midnight tryst.

As soon as I had the thought, I felt awful! Here was my poor master, hopelessly devoted to winning over his unrequited love. And I! I was so selfish as to wish him to abandon his goal not for his own sake, but for mine so that I could be reunited with the nightgown of my dreams. Shame blossomed within me; heat crept up toward my neckline. I was glad, for once, to be so pink so that my blush would not show.

It was then that I resolved to be more prudent. While I would never be content with my station, I could at least start thinking of the consequences of my rebelliousness. There was no use thinking, "Well, what if I were to run away to Shou Shimaron? What if I were to ask the breeze to carry me there? What if I stowed away in King Saralegui's luggage?"

Well, what then? I would have betrayed my master, to whom I owe everything.

When I was born, I hung all by my lonesome in the tailor's shop until a beautiful woman came to get me. I later learned that her name was Lady Cecilie, and I thought it would be nice to be worn by such a beauty. But she never did... And I am ever so glad that she didn't!

If Lord Wolfram had not accepted his mother's gift, I would have been stuck in her extensive closets 'til kingdom come. I would still be smothered between two old biddies who spoke of nothing but how they once helped Lady Cecilie seduce Lord Weller. (The other Lord Weller - the father of the one who bore the ugly cotton undergarments.)

Upon hearing their stories, I vowed to close my eyes if ever she wore me! Oh, how I hated those old crones and their constant one-upmanship!

"Lord Weller could not look away from the way Mistress was busting out of me, ohohoho!" the red one would say.

"Though I hugged Mistress' curves so tightly, I wasn't on her for more than a minute before Lord Weller ripped me off and flung me into a corner, ohohoho!" the black one would say.

"I bear the stains of their lovemaking! Here, you can see the faintest splotch on my hem!"

"Well I was there when she conceived!"

"Ohohoho!"

"Ohohoho!"

It was horrid! Even thinking back on those times is enough to make me want to cry, and every night I thank Lord Wolfram from the bottom of my heart. Perhaps someday I would help him seduce the Maou, but in the meantime, my gratitude was enough to quell those thoughts of running away. Prudence, I thought. Yes, prudence.

I had somewhat come to peace with the idea that I would be left pining for Violette and what our love could have been. Master did not like King Saralegui at all, if his grumbling was anything to go by. I heard only the snatches of rumors brought to me by his uniforms, but it seemed as if something of a blood feud was starting up.

Master was more and more often in a foul mood when he came back to his room after his duties. It wasn't uncommon for him to be fuming as he stripped and put me on. During this "changing of the guard", as it were, the uniforms would tell me things, such as how horribly King Saralegui's coats treated them when everyone went riding in the afternoon.

I hoped with all my heart that Violette and I would not end up as Romeo and Juliet had, caught between love and family.

-oOo-

It was night; he had just returned to his room, freshly bathed. From my position in the closet, I could hear him hiss out something about "that bastard! Who does he think he is?" and from this I gathered that there had been something of a tizzy over dinner. Perhaps King Saralegui had snidely insinuated that Lord Wolfram was not a suitable companion for His Majesty.

Regardless, this was one of those nights where Master was noticeably upset. He yanked me on and quickly stuffed his feet in some slippers. In a short while, we were on our way to the Maou's chambers.

Master huffed and stomped his way down the halls. But something...was wrong.

He stopped.

We were not ten feet from the lavishly engraved double doors of the king's bedroom when we came to a complete halt because there! Outside the room! It was His Majesty, yes, but he was engaged in conversation with a devastatingly beautiful man. From the descriptions I had heard, this could be no other than King Saralegui!

Quickly, I glanced down to see if she was there-

Yes!

"Violette!" I called for her.

"Who...? Oh, Rose!"

"Get your hands off my fiance!"

Master Wolfram stomped over to where the others were standing. I did not hear more of their conversation, their shouting becoming white noise in the background. Vaguely, I could hear King Saralegui sounding coy and smug; Master was furious, and His Majesty tried his best to keep the peace, but was summarily ignored. But only those indistinct impressions were with me, for I had ears solely for my darling Violette.

"Rose, how I've missed you... These nights have been so lonely without you..."

"Me, too. I have- I have thought a lot about you."

We were in another world, gazing into each others' fabric. While in the outside world, the fight grew in intensity, we were content. All I noticed was that Master had stepped much closer to King Saralegui. His heart was pounding faster, in time with mine. His due to rage, and mine with love.

"And I have been so jealous!" Violette proclaimed. It was quite sudden, so I was shocked.

"Of whom? Of what? My dear, there is only you!"

"No, not of your fidelity, never that. But darling, I must confess. This is all my fault!" As she said this, our masters pulled even closer to each other until we nearly brushed. "Rose, I whispered into his ear as he slept. I knew of my master's love for King Yuuri and I told him, 'Wear your nightgown. Go see him. Perhaps he will welcome you to his bed.' So you see, I am most dreadful! I planned to break apart your master's engagement just so I could see you one last time!"

"Violette, no!"

"Do you hate me?"

"No," I said as firmly as I could. "I do not approve of your conduct, but I could never hate the one I love."

"...Love?"

"Yes, love."

"Rose, I- Ooh!"

We were snapped back into harsh reality at the touch! We were pressed together; our masters were screaming into each other's faces.

"Calm down, you guys! Seriously, let's sit down a-and talk this out!" The Maou had not yet quit his position as peacemaker, though he was failing spectacularly.

They shouted so loudly! Oh, I had never heard such shouting! Then it was name-calling and a bit of shoving, and then hair-pulling, and then King Saralegui tripped and fell on top of my master!

"Ooooh, Rose, I love you, too," Violette moaned.

We were pressed flush against each other. I panted. I groaned feverishly. I had never felt such pleasure before! As our masters writhed on the ground in battle, cussing and pulling at each other's hair, Violette and I felt our passions climbing ever higher!

"Oh, Rose!" she gasped breathlessly into my ribbons.

"Yes... Yes! I feel it as well, Violette my love," I whispered into the sensitive frills decorating her neckline.

The teasing friction of cloth grinding against cloth consumed my every thought.

"Aaaah~! Violette!"

"Yes, yes!"

I was flying, I saw stars, I was on top of the world! And then...I blanked. As I drifted off into nothingness, I could hear her whisper to me, "I love you."

-oOo-

When I came to, it was in the Maou's bed.

"Violette! Where is she?"

"She's gone."

It was Babe's voice. I looked around and saw only Master Wolfram and His Majesty, awkwardly laying in bed. His Majesty was trying very hard not to look over at his fiance, and Master was fuming.

"Oh... I see..."

A moment of tense silence passed for all four of us.

"...That was pretty hot."

"Stop it, Babe. Please. You've no idea how my heart is breaking now."

"Aww, man, I'm sorry. It's tough being in love with someone you can't have. I kinda know what that's like."

"...Really. I can't imagine you, of all people, being in love. Who is it?"

"Um, I'd rather not say. You'd make fun of me. 'Cuz you don't like him very much. Yeah..."

"..."

"I mean it, though. That was fucking hot."

"Shut it!"

-oOo-

The next morning was a laundry day yet again. I swayed mournfully, watching the green and brown trousers frolic on the other side of the courtyard. How I envied them...

Babe was next to me, as always, though he knew better than to try starting any of that stilted conversation. Distantly, I thought to myself that someday, when I wasn't feeling so down, I would figure out his mysterious crush and tease him mercilessly for it. But as it was, I was absorbed in my own misery.

The gates behind us opened and shook me out of my contemplation. Horses, men, and a carriage rolled out. They were gathering here, in the courtyard next to the laundry, to prepare everything before setting out. I looked over and saw that they were King Saralegui's men, bedecked in uniforms with the Shou Shimaron crest emblazoned upon them.

They counted heads and packed up crates. King Saralegui waved goodbye to King Yuuri before heading into the carriage. The porters brought out the last of the luggage just as the head of the entourage whipped the reigns of their horses and began to leave. The last of the straggling suitcases made their way into the wagon at the vanguard.

And that was when I saw her.

She peeked out of the suitcase, just the tip of her sleeve. Just a slip of purple cloth, waving to me, goodbye.

Fare thee well, my love.

* * *

**A/N:** The end! You know, the character I really felt bad for was actually the unnamed "Lord Weller's undergarments". This didn't make its way into the story, but he and Rose had a falling out when she discovered that he was made of cotton, and then she refused to call him by his given name. There's something going on between him, Babe, and Kuro, too. He has a crush on Kuro, because hello~ sexy g-string! But Kuro's only leading him on for fun. (Pah! You think the Maou's _special_ underwear would be interested in regular underwear? No way! Kuro's got his eyes set on Gwendal's pimpin' silk robe.) And then Babe's actually in love with him, but he sees the pajamas as just friend material. Thus, Babe/Kuro rivalry. It's all very complicated and soap opera-ish.


End file.
